Street Smart
by SilenceIsInfinite
Summary: Living in a cramped house is never fun, especially if that house is a cardboard box in an alleyway that you live in with your best friend. To Maximum Ride and Fang Carter, the streets are where they belong, and they've got the scars to prove it. But how deep do those scars run, and what will it take for them to open up again? Is it too late to go back to what they once had?


**Okay, I've read SO many stories where the flock are homeless, and, well... I think it's so cliche that I just want to see how I can make it mine, you know? Well...that's kind of how this story came to be.**

**Dedicated to VampiresExplodeInLight, I got this idea from you~ I just don't think I can write the subject as well as you can D:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, James Patterson does!**

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"Who d'ya think you are, trying to take 'is grub?"

"Bitches like you should get back in the kitchen!"

"You tryin' to glare at me? _Oh, I'm so scared!_"

"D'ya think you 'ave a chance against us?"

Maximum Ride's eyes were almost red by the end of the loud insults. All she had done was try to steal some food at the local pub, Blazer_. _That's all she had ever done - steal. She was good at it, too, and fierce when her victim would put up a fight. She'd never linger, but be quick, quick enough that no one would even notice her.

Tonight, though, someone had.

After searching the dumpsters behind the store - only to find that they were just emptied - Max and her partner and crime, Fang Carter, walked _inside_ the pub to find some food.

Which is an absolute _no _in their rules, and they knew it.

It was about eleven when they walked up to the corner and sat down at a table for two, declining the offers of food from the waitress but accepting a round of water. The two's eyes flickered to any movement coming around the table.

Blazer was busy tonight, as men who clearly had too much to drink exploded in a fit of laughter at a joke that the bartender had made. They all wore clothing that was fit for sewer rats - much like Max and Fang - with rips in the fraying fabric from their bulging beer bellies. Each cackle of laughter brought out stained yellow teeth, while the bartender would awkwardly chuckle. Apparently, his heart wasn't in it.

Max had been surveying the pub for a long time before she found the opportunity she was looking for: the man at the end of the bar had just gone for the bathroom, and all of the other men hadn't noticed the full plate of food he had left behind.

She stood up. "Cover me," she said, her eyes still in focus in front of her. Every step had to be calculated correctly, or else the men would notice her.

When she reached the edge of the bar, emerging from the corner, Max had gained the attention to the bartender, a strawberry blonde with eyes like ice. He was young, possibly the same age as herself, but towered over the table with drunken men with a height that definitely cleared six feet. He stared at her intently, his eyes watching her every move. Max could feel Fang's stare on her as he, too, watched, just as the bartender raised his forearm...

And sneezed. Quite loudly, actually.

The attention of the men turned onto the bartender, who just laughed just as loud as the men in an attempt to act as if nothing had interrupted their jokes, but they weren't looking at him. They were looking at Max.

The insults were degrading and unacceptable by _anyone's _standards, making the bartender blush profusely at the fact that it had all been his fault. And by then, the man whose food had been targeted had returned and had begun mouthing off at Max as well, who was debating on ripping their heads off.

She lunged, only to find that a hand had stuck out to stop her. She recoiled, already on guard, but softened slightly when she found it was Fang.

The men guffawed at the sight. "D'ya think it's 'er boyfriend, comin' to save 'er?" a beefy man with thick eyebrows asked another man next to him. They both spewed out more laughs.

When Fang had met Max, his first mistake was underestimating her. She was ten years old at the time, with honey eyes and long, blonde hair. In fact, Fang had most likely thought that Max wasn't even homeless, let alone fighting for her life on the streets. He had missed the sprays of blood on the bottom of her shoes that led a trail into an alleyway, too caught up that she, too, was homeless! But he was a newbie who didn't know the basics of street life: looks are deceiving.

The arm that drew back a snarling Max, now fifteen with dirty blonde hair and eyes of burnt amber, knew all about her temper and would never go back against her - with the scars to prove it. She was still beautiful, but _definitely _didn't need anyone's protection. The arm was simply a warning, a gesture that said, _Keep out of this. These bastards are mine._

Simply put, don't fuck with Maximum Ride.

You mess with her rights, you mess with her pride, you mess with her family... well, it was nice knowing you.

Max, sensing this, let Fang step forward. She began to walk away, not even bothering to get the blood on her clothes. She somewhat pitied the men - as well as the bartender, who most likely had to watch - who had to meet Fang's wrath. As she waited outside of the pub, she could hear the flick of a knife being released from the sheath that Fang had worn on his belt.

Yes, she really pitied the men.

It was chilly in the streets of downtown Hyerium. The moon was full, casting an eerie glow through the translucent clouds and onto the street, while the street lamps shone above. There were few screams inside of Blazer, ones that only added to the dark aura of the nights in Hyerium. The alley, known to the homeless as Paranoia, was adorned with both prestigious - and illegal - jewelry stores, but also pubs such as Blazer.

To her right, Max could hear the sound of someone approaching her. Her hand flew to her belt, taking out a knife and throwing it at the enemy. There was a noise as the knife fell to the concrete, and then emerged the bartender.

At a closer look, he had freckles that sprayed on his nose and was much, much taller. Most likely six foot and three inches, a whole eight inch difference than Max, he easily cast a shadow upon her just by standing in front of her. There was a box in his hands, and his tie was loose. He had also taken his jacket off, wearing a ruffled collared shirt with some blood by the front pocket.

Obviously, he hadn't been spared.

"Here," the bartender said, extending the box to Max. She tensed.

"What's in it?" she asked, backing away by merely a centimeter, but somehow, he caught her wary and made a move to reassure her.

"Relax," he said, "it's food."

Before he could change his mind, Max snatched the box from his hands and opened it up to find that there were packaged food and bottles of water inside of the box. The amount of food would probably allow her and Fang to last about three weeks, if they used it wisely. Maybe even more.

Max shook her head and shoved the box back at the strawberry blonde. "I don't need charity," she said, and proceeded to glare at him. He looked confused at her refusal.

"Based on what happened in there?" he asked, wincing at the piercing scream of another man. "You do."

She snarled. "What about you?" she asked the bartender.

His eyebrows shot up into his bangs. "Me?"

"If you give me this, what do you get?" she leant against the brick wall of the pub, staring into his pale eyes.

He seemed to consider this for a second. "There is _one _thing."

"Of course there is," Max mumbled to herself.

"I want to live with you and the dark one."

Max was completely baffled with his words, but didn't know where to start. Was it the blatant request that was so absurd? Or was it that he had referred to Fang as the 'dark one'? Max almost snorted. The statement was just so true.

"That's quite the request," she said, looking down to examine her cuticles.

"I can handle it."  
"Really?" she asked, meeting the bartender's eyes yet again. "I might just go hungry."

He grit his teeth. "Please."

"Please?"

"I need a place to go to," he said, running a hand through his hair, " and you can provide that."

This time she actually snorted. "I hate to rain on your parade, _Mr. Bartender_, but I don't have a place to let you go to, unless you want to snuggle in a cardboard box next to Fang and I's."

"Doesn't sound too bad," he commented, "and it's James. James Edgar."

Max raised her eyebrows. Fang and Max had changed their names after going to the streets, her's previously being Aria Knox and Fang's being Elliott Blakewood. "You sure?"

He blinked for a few seconds before catching on. "No. Actually, I'm Iggy Griffiths."

A smirk creeped its way onto Max's mouth just as Fang emerged from the pub with bags of food and a mop of black hair that had blood rinsed out of it from the kitchen's sink. His eyebrows shot up into his hair at the sight of Iggy, silently questioning him.

When she nodded to Fang, he bent his head slightly. "Fang Carter."

She took this time to introduce myself. "Maximum Ride. Fang, this is Iggy." She took Iggy's bag of food from the ground. "Welcome to the family."

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**What do you think? :P**

**~SilenceIsInfinite**


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